


red lights all around

by Ruby_Wednesday



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby_Wednesday/pseuds/Ruby_Wednesday
Summary: The motel is the worst place in the world to spend the festive season.Until it isn't.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 139





	red lights all around

Nicaise said, “I’m making a list.”

“Are you checking it twice?” Laurent asked, peering over the rising steam.

“Fuck off.”

“Come on, you walked right into it.” He pushed off the side of the pool and floated on his back, looking up at the glowing lights in the distance. Swimming had been Nicaise’s idea and Laurent, who was feeling sorry for the boy, agreed. It felt wrong, now, that Laurent was the one in the warm water while the kid was stretched on a lounger. Role-reversal or something. “What’s on your list? Top ten men you’re going to ruin when this is over.”

“Nope. Top five worse places to spend Christmas Eve.”

“Read them to me.”

“Number five,” Nicaise said. “Prison. Number four: overnight shift in one of those toll-booths you researched before we planned the route.”

“They all have cameras,” Laurent said.

“I know.” His tone said, _idiot_. “Number three: the departure lounge of a regional airport. Number two: the emergency room. Number one : this motel. I might make a Tik Tok. Will you film?”

“No.”

“I forgot my -“

“No identifying information.” Laurent swam over to the edge of the pool. “Nicaise, we talked about this.”

“I know. I know.”

“It’s not really the worst place to spend Christmas is it?” Laurent asked. There was an edge to his voice. It had been…difficult to make Nicaise see why they had to leave. That was expected. He’d been the same once. Bewitched. But with distance, and this stifled sense of freedom, he thought Nicaise was coming out from under the spell.

“The first room had a mirror on the ceiling.”

“In which you took a ton of selfies before we moved.”

A splash, then, behind them and Laurent stilled. The pool was gated and crashed when it opened and closed. He’d thought that was enough to alert him to anyone entering. It wasn’t just that they could be followed, it was that they shouldn’t be seen.

Nicaise didn’t shift from his relaxed pose. Carefully, Laurent turned around. The water rippled. There was a man in the deep end of the pool. The steam obscured the view somewhat, and Laurent’s eyes were sore from the chlorine, but the sight made his his stomach do a little flip. The scene was very Bond; very cologne ad. Laurent didn’t really think men who looked like this existed outside of movies.

He certainly didn’t expect to see someone this hot in a shitty motel. If he was totally honest with himself, he rarely saw anyone he found hot at all. Sure, there were plenty of objectively attractive men in the world. He noticed them in the same way he noticed beautiful women - pleasing to the eye but they never caused a spark.

“If you ask me,” the man called over, “The kid is right. This is the number one worst place to spend Christmas.”

“No-one asked you,” Laurent replied.

“The kid has a name, old man,” Nicaise shouted.

“So do I.” He was under mostly under the blue water now. His dark hair was slicked back away from his face. Laurent thought about what it would like if he shook it out. “I’m Damen. I’m staying here too. What about you?”

Laurent shot Nicaise a look. It wasn’t safe to tell strangers your name.

“We snuck in to enjoy the ambience,” Laurent replied. Flatly, he cast his eye around their surroundings - the chain link fence, the lights with their burnt out bulbs, the bars on the ground-floor windows and sad inflatable Rudolph on the roof.

The man - Damen - smiled in a rueful way. “The shower in my room is broken. I see now why the pool is heated.” He changed position then, and started to swim steady laps up and down the pool. It made Laurent think of a shark. What must it be like to slice through life so confident of yourself?

Vaskian Christmas music drifted their way through tinny speakers in one of the nearby rooms. There were lots of migrants this close to the border. Lots of misplaced souls. Laurent hadn’t heard these songs in years - not since childhood winters spent in Acquitart marvelling at the snow covered hills and begging Auguste to take him skating. He was much younger than Nicaise then. He still felt that young sometimes.

He half listened to Nicaise list other sad places to spend Christmas. Refugee camps. Psychiatric hospitals. A creepy gas station. It got progressively more depressing. But Laurent did not interrupt. It was important to listen. All kids, but especially a kid like Nicaise, deserved to be heard. While Nicaise spoke to the back of Laurent’s head, Laurent watched Damen’s powerful laps of the pool. You got the sense he wasn’t trying very hard. The powerful movements, agile speed, were his natural state.

His shoulders were very nice. Laurent felt his cheeks get hot at the moment he realised he was feeling things for this man. Damen. It was totally inappropriate to creep on someone just taking a dip in public pool. It was worse for Laurent to do it now. He was with Nicaise, for pity’s sake. He was trying to be the exact opposite of what Nicaise had known for the last few years.

Nicaise deserved his full attention.

Nicaise was wandering off. “I’m getting.a soda. And my headphones.”

“Fine.” Both their room and the vending machine were visible from the pool. It was safe. Laurent thought that he really should get out of the water. He should put his clothes back on and be a responsible adult.

He didn’t move. The water was warm. It was embarrassing to be so near to naked in front of a stranger. These were borrowed trunks! His skin was reddening again when the man - Damen, call him Damen - came to a stop nearby.

He treaded water and looked at Laurent in an unashamed way.

“Race?”

That shocked Laurent in letting out a bark of a laugh.

“Excuse me?”

“Want to race?”

Laurent….did. He did want to. He liked swimming. He liked competing. He liked the thoughtless state of mind that came with thinking only of the next lap, the next move, the prospect of victory. If you were in a competition, no-one expected you to think of anything else.

“Yes. But…”

“You just had a big dinner?”

“I had chicken nuggets hours ago. No, I have to keep an eye on the boy.”

“He’s your brother?” There was an odd tone in Damen’s voice.

Laurent nodded. “I’m taking him to our older brother’s house. We don’t…our parents are dead.” That was true. At least, as far as anyone knew Nicaise was an orphan. He’d told him once he’d felt like Annie meeting Daddy Warbucks when their uncle took him in. That was then.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Thanks. It happened a while ago.” Laurent had drifted away from the edge of the pool. Closer to the deep end. As if there was a current.

“My dad just died. That’s why I’m here.” Damen said, as blandly as if he was talking about the weather.

“Are you on the way to a funeral?” Laurent decided to match Damen’s tone.

“No.”

“Are you…all right? It’s difficult, I know.” He trailed off. How could he say any of the normal things? He didn’t know this man. The ache of sorrow in his chest was not really for him. It was for Laurent’s own grief and the shocked, numb days where it sank in that both his parents were gone. He didn’t know Damen. He couldn’t be feeling this for him.

But Damen looked up suddenly, with an open honest face. “Thank you. No-one else has asked.”

“That’s a no, then? The answer.” He checked on Nicaise. He could see him fighting with vending machine.

Damen’s answer was a shrug. Beads of water clung to his broad shoulders. Fairy lights flicked behind him. Laurent trailed a finger along the surface of the pool.

“My father just died. My brother, my half-brother -“ He tripped over the word like he wasn’t used to saying it. “is sleeping with my girlfriend. Ex girlfriend. He fired me and kicked me out of the house. Happy Holidays to me. Do you want to race or not?”

Nicaise had settled himself back on the deckchair with a tattered towel and a mound of snacks.

“Sure,” Laurent said. “On your marks…”

It was just swimming. Pick a lane and a stroke and do your best. There were no lanes in the motel pool, though. There weren’t any rules. At first, they kept pace. Laurent smoothly freestyled while Damen butterflied beside him. Damen was strong. That was obvious. But Laurent made it his business to be fit. You never know when you might need to out-run someone. Vaguely, he was aware of the splashing and the blurred lights and the powerful force inches away. That all faded as he found a rhythm. There was no-one keeping time and he found himself getting into that nothing-minded exercise zone.

He paused to catch his breath, and check on Nicaise, holding on to a foot-rail. Damen stopped beside him.

“I’m winning,” he called.

“How?”

“I just am.” He pushed off again and Laurent, cursing, followed suit. This had an edge to it now. He crossed in front of Damen to deliberately disrupt him. He splashed more than necessary. Damen grinned at him and propelled himself on with more force. He had been holding back. That display did something to Laurent’s senses. So he caught his ankle and tried to yank him backwards. Damen shook him off, like he was a puppy, but pushed Laurent back by the shoulders.

Laurent just about managed to squirm out of the way. He was laughing. He didn’t even flinch. And when Damen grabbed for him a second time, he put less effort into escaping. Damen manoeuvred him out of the way and Laurent told himself it was the water making him buoyant. He couldn’t think about all that controlled strength without losing a part of his mind.

It pleased him that Damen just moved, pushed, and didn’t resort to pushing him under the water. Laurent couldn’t guarantee he himself would have the same willpower but he appreciated basic consideration. Maybe that was what made him act without thinking. He launched himself nearly on top of Damen and used both his hands to disrupt the movement. Damen twisted, laughing, so he was floating on his back.

Laurent treaded water. He was holding on too long. It was too much for him. Too much for a stranger so with a teasing splash he pushed himself under the surface and treaded water there. He didn’t have goggles but he forced himself to open his eyes.

There was the cracked tiles in yellow stripes. There were Damen’s thighs, muscled and dusted with dark hair, and the cling of his bathing suit. The water seemed blue and the flickering festive lights seemed otherworldly.

He used to do this as a boy - challenge himself to hold his breath underwater. He was good at it.

Usually.

Then Damen joined him under the water. His expression was soft and his eyes were on Laurent. It felt like a moment for other people - the kind of staged intimacy found in a movie, or something shared between people who actually knew each other.

It went on too long, the looking. And Laurent forgot to hold his breath.

Spluttering, he broke the surface. He could hear Nicaise cackling. Damen, concerned, called his name and placed a too-familiar hand on his shoulder.

“I concede,” Laurent rasped. “You won.” He exited the pool with as much dignity as he could mutter, which was not very much. He wasn’t self-conscious, normally, but he couldn’t wait to grab hold of one of the questionable towels. He took a long drink of Nicaise’s soda.

“Ew. Get your own,” he grumbled. “Get your own room too if -“

“Shut up.”

He didn’t expect Damen to walk over there. Even when he heard the slap of flip-flops on the concrete, he thought it would be him heading out. Wishful thinking, maybe.

Damen sat at the end of the next lounger. It did that lounger thing of nearly collapsing under an uneven weight. Damen’s face did that very cute moment of panic thing before he righted himself. Laurent panicked. Gay panic, to be precise. Nicaise snickered.

“Did you leave anything in the vending machine for other guests?” Damen asked.

“Granola bars. You can have the orange soda. It’s two years out of date.”

Damen shook his head. “Pass. I’ve got a whiskey in a coffee cup over there.”

“I’ll swap my Pepsi.”

“You won’t even joke about that,” Laurent interrupted.

“I can hold my-“

“Enough.”

Nicaise rolled his eyes and popped back in his earbuds with an air of disdain only a newly minted teenager could muster. It occurred to Laurent that this was the right time to take Nicaise away from all…from their uncle. It was hard enough without the sting of rejection.

“Do you want a drink?”

“It’s against the rules.”

“And I thought I was being so responsible by not bringing down the glass bottle.” He expression was sheepish. “Are you always such a rule follower?”

Was he flirting? Laurent brushed the thought away; pretended to consider Damen’s question.

“No,” he said. “Not if they are unjust. What are you going to do?”

“Finish my drink. Pass out before I have time to think about the motel mattress.”

“About your situation.”

“Pass out. I need some time. It’s too soon.”

“You’re going to let him away with it? Your brother.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.”

“You on the run? No names. I heard you warn the kid about —“

“My name is Laurent. That’s Nicaise. We were on our way to meet my older brother when I had to ditch my car. I think there was a tracker on it. I can’t rent one without a credit card and I can’t risk using a card because it can be traced.”

“So you are on the run? I didn’t think that happened in real life.”

“I’m not —“ He sucked in some air. His throat was still a little raw from swallowing water. Tea. He’d make tea in the room. That would help. “

Nicaise popped out one ear bud. “I’m going to live with Laurent and his brother in Acquitart. I did live with their uncle until yesterday but it wasn’t a good place for me. We don’t want anyone to know until I get there. It’s not that dramatic.”

“Yes,” said Laurent.

“Right.”

“It’s a little bit dramatic, I guess. Our uncle doesn’t know Nicaise left. Some might call it kidnapping.”

“Right. What do you call it?”

“Helping him.” Laurent might have said rescue but he didn’t think nosey Nicaise would like that. He could see the change in Damen’s body language, the settling of his posture.

“I’m in room 302,” Damen said. “If you want to swing by. I could help you help him.”

“I’m in 303. We got an upgrade. If you want to come by, maybe we can help each other.”

-

Nicaise claimed the bed. They probably could have shared but Laurent didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. That left him with the pull out sofa. Wonderful. He had washed the chlorine out of his hair, while Nicaise pouted and made fun of Laurent’s shampoo. Dressed now in soft sweats and a hoodie with too-long sleeves, he heated water and kept the tv on low. There was a black and white movie on he used to watch with his mom as a kid. Damen hadn’t come by. Maybe Laurent was stupid for asking him. Maybe Damen hadn’t wanted to help. Maybe he wanted…he had looked at Laurent hotly. Maybe he wanted to fuck.

Laurent considered that - not the details. That wasn’t the point. They were something that would unfold like gift-wrapping. He thought about what this raw sense of desire meant. What it would be like to be brave, liberated, and embark headfirst into an exciting encounter in a seedy motel.

Nicaise was sound asleep. Damen was right down the hall. Not even a hall. A balcony. Before his brain held him back again, Laurent stuck out of the room. When he raised his hand to knock on room 302, the door swung open before he made contact.

“I was just—“ Damen said.

“I thought you weren’t -“

They broke off. Smiled. Laurent noticed that Damen was wearing blue jeans and a bright white t-shirt. It was really unfair. He noticed too, the sheer mass of stuff in the rundown room behind them. Suitcases. Boxes. A weight bench. A guitar. A pair of skis.

“A second room was cheaper than a storage unit,” Damen said, by way of explanation. “They kindly got the staff to pack it into a trailer. All I wanted was … it doesn’t matter. At least there’s a bed.”

Laurent looked at the bed. The covers were rumpled. He swallowed air.

Damen followed his gaze. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know. You’re…” Laurent trailed off. He was going to say that he knew Damen was straight. But that didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to say that, because it was dismissing the connection he was feeling. Maybe he was bi. Maybe it didn’t matter.

“You have to watch out for your brother,” Damen said. “I wouldn’t expect.”

Great. Laurent was a goner, wasn’t he? Damen was decent. And he was implying that if Nicaise wasn’t there…

Laurent shook himself out of that reverie. “I made tea.”

“I really admire what you’re doing.”

“Gross,” said Laurent. “Don’t be so sincere.”

He poured the tea, wishing the water was hotter, and regretted unfolding the couch bed so soon. There were no other seats. He had to wave for Damen to creak onto it and then lower himself gingerly onto the squeaky springs. He curled his bare feet beneath him. Damen faced him with his legs crossed.

“I’m going to lose my mind if I stay here.”

“i’d argue you’ve had to already lost your mind to willingly come here. Other than you, the only ok person I’ve encountered was here to visit her whores.”

“I have a car. It’s got a full tank and plenty of space. I can take you both to where you need to go.”

“Don’t be —“ Old ways came back. “What’s in it for you?”

“I just told you this place was getting to me.”

It was tempting. Was it reckless? But it would so be nice to have another adult to share the burden of responsibility. Damen was a big dude. He could protect…Laurent didn’t need protection but it would be nice to not be alone. He was always alone. Until this mad gambit with Nicaise, he hadn’t slept in a room with another person since he was a child.

It was tempting. It was selfish.

“You can’t run away.”  
  
“You did.”

“I’m going home. Kind of. Damen —“ He put his cup down so he could give him his full attention. “You need to fight.”

“What’s the point?”

“Pride? Dignity?”

“I can’t explain,” Damen said. “He’s my only surviving family. I never thought…do you know what it’s like to be hurt so badly by someone who should only help you? I trusted him. I would have given it all to him if he asked.”

Laurent blew on his tea. It wasn’t the hot. Eventually, he looked out at Damen from under heavy eyelids. He recognised the expression on Damen’s face. He wasn’t just hurting. He was so tired.

“I know what that’s like,” Laurent said. “That’s why I’m helping Nicaise. When I was…when I felt like that, Auguste helped me.”

“Nicaise is a kid, though.”

There was something Laurent could not say : a thought, perhaps a fear, that deep inside they were all just kids. It was Christmas Eve and he was wearing soft clothes and warming his hands on a hot mug. The whole world was made up of children, hoping for miracles or kindness or just someone to show that they heard what they said.

“Did your father change his will not long before he died?”

Damen nodded, looking stricken. “He got a new lawyer.”

“Friend of your brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“Your brother sought to isolate and discredit you. He used your emotional ties against you. You made mistakes in work that you never made before. Your father started to look at you differently. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

“I wish you were.”

“Here’s what you are going to do,” Laurent said, in an emotionless voice. “Hire a lawyer who specialises in —“

“I have no money.”

“Auguste has been through this. My brother. Our father’s brother tried something similar. His lawyer was a family friend. We’ll front you the money. You will win this case. You’re going to fight.” He looked deep into Damen’s eyes. “You’re going to win.”

“You don’t have to…”

“You didn’t have to offer to drive us home.” Laurent took a sip of his tea. His throat was still tight. It was criminal, really, the shape Damen’s lips made around the rim of the cup when he took a drink of his own. Stop. concentrate. “We can take turns.”

Damen reached out, suddenly, but also as if he’d been gearing up for this all night and then his fingers were intertwining with Laurent’s. “I’d like that,” he said.

-

They planned their route for a while and discussed practicalities. Eventually, they fell into silence and watched snow fall on the old television. Laurent dozed. Damen slid down until he was lying on the bed, and with every inch he moved the bedsprings screamed. Nicaise glared. Laurent let his eyes fall shut again, and he could see glowing lights behind his lids.

In the morning, Damen was still there.

“He’s coming too.” Nicaise wasn’t asking.

“He’s driving.”

Nicaise looked down at Damen’s sleeping form. “I call shotgun. No way am I sitting behind a giant.”

“You’ll go in the trunk if you don’t pipe down,” Damen said.

“Fuck off,” Nicaise said. But, like, with affection. Nicaise and Laurent only had duffle bags. Since Damen wasn’t entirely sure his stuff would still be in the motel whenever he got back, he said Nicaise would take anything that fit easily in his big-ass car. Nicaise chose the guitar. Laurent hadn’t expected that. There was a games console right there. It made him smile and a strange look passed over Damen’s face and then they all found themselves distributing Damen’s sports equipment and gaming stuff to the Vaskian kids who lived there full time. They left it by the the front desk and Laurent found the sex worker from yesterdau, figuring she’d know what moms to tell. When they left proper Laurent saw a little girl, no more than five, gazing lovingly at Damen’s baseball bat.

“How’s that list coming along Nicaise?” Laurent asked, as they pulled onto the highway.

“I’m over it. I’m making a new one. And when we get to the new place and get the shit all sorted out, I’m gonna make some killer videos.”

“What’s the list?” Damen asked.

“None of your business.”

“Right. Of course.” Damen shook his head, amused. “What about you?” It made Laurent’s stomach flip - to have Damen’s voice and attention trained on him.

“It wasn’t the worst Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“You didn’t get any presents.”

“Didn’t I?”

**Author's Note:**

> happy festive season to those who celebrate. happy december to those who do not. this hell year is nearly over. we all need some fluff.
> 
> unbeta'd and quickly proof-read before i changed my mind about posting. forgive any errors, please.


End file.
